


Everything

by freakshowcorpse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes-centric, Cheating, Complicated Relationships, Dom Loki (Marvel), Drinking, Drug Use, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Love Triangles, Multi, Partying, Recreational Drug Use, SHIELD Agent Bucky Barnes, Shameless Smut, Stucky - Freeform, Sugar Baby, Sugar Daddy, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Unhealthy Relationships, WinterFrost - Freeform, lots of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-07 10:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17959151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakshowcorpse/pseuds/freakshowcorpse
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is a dissatisfied, self indulgent man chasing after life's frivolity. Along the way, he entangles himself within the arms of several lovers whilst swaddled in the toxicity of his mental state.After running away from home, a young Bucky Barnes is taken into Loki's care until one night, an accident befalls him after a run in with HYDRA thugs. Tony Stark gives him a different life, one that he could only dream of. But, so does a particular god of mischief. And another man revered by many.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love to role play! 
> 
> See the end for details.

“Fuck.”

James Buchanan Barnes awoke to a dizzying headache that left him groaning and reaching for a stale, overused disposable bottle of water at his bedside table. Which, really, was nothing more than a piss poor clear plastic receptacle with three drawers, one of the minimal furnishings in his piss poor quarters. The bottom of which cracked and split open thanks to the brunette kicking it in after one of his own capricious fits. Given that he had plenty, the reason as to why he had elected to fuck up a perfectly fucked up drawer had escaped him long ago. Taking a long, loud swig from the bottle, the teen hoped to wash his hangover away. And again, the extant thought of, “Fuck this fucking place,” escaped him through a sigh. 

Above him was a moldy ceiling, collapsing in certain places, paint yellowed, thinning and peeling. At the northern corner of it sat a gaping hole that exposed olden wood beams that sat to support the flooring above. It was worth noting that the room just above his had already rotten beyond repair. The roof had completely broken in after a dead tree had crashed into it. Constant rains ate away at the room, and now decay seemed to follow Bucky into his room. Like, yeah, his life had turned to shit, but now there was a nice physical representation of it. 

Things shouldn't be this way, no. They lived in a nice place once upon a time up in New York. Then, his youngest sister developed cancer so they moved somewhere cheaper to be able to afford her treatment. They rented a small home in which they shared a single room, all seven of them. Bucky took an old recliner with cloth composed of hints of suede brown and patchwork as his own bed, the closest semblance of privacy he got from that place. They stayed there for two year watching Maggie waste away before she passed away at three, taking the hope the Barnes had left just short of draining whatever funds they had both saved and had yet to acquire, transcending what the lower middle class family could handle. There were nights they had to endure sleeping on empty stomachs, lest the IRS take their home if their bills weren't all paid. The remaining four children did their homework with the light of kerosene lamps or birthday candles stolen from a dollar store. Neither parent oftentimes could pay electricity bills. 

Neither had time for their kids, either. Constantly taking endless shifts at work to pay off what they owed and the price of living. Yeah, it sucked, and for the most part, it seemed they were all alone. But god, they’d be grateful if they could go back to that… 

 

As if things weren’t bad enough, one night his little sister came to him minutes short of sneaking out. The eldest of the bunch couldn’t bear to be home. Sometimes he guilted over leaving them all to their devices. But, for the life of him, he couldn’t stand not indulging in escapism. Anyway, the second youngest of the family, Lily, had a proclivity for demanding nightlights. Otherwise, she would cry or spend hours terrified. Her sisters came to bed later, so did her parents, so she'd be left all alone. So, Bucky did what he had to do - melt a candle and stick it to the desk nearest her. Then he left, finally, the eldest absconding with one of his sisters to just… not be there. 

That night was a mistake. One that no one really could recover from, the one last final straw that ended all desperate attempts to throw them back into the swing of things, reestablish normalcy. 

Hours later, a firetruck came whizzing by them both as they sat on the steps of a corner store eating ice cream, and he was struck with a sudden grave feeling. One that he couldn't explain, but was definitely one that prompted him to flee down the street and follow the wailing red truck. Alas, before they even rounded the corner, he just knew. She was gone before anyone could get to them. He could smell the smoke, see the skies turning a bleak grey, darker and darker at the source, and soon he and his sister came face to face with the flames that ravaged their home. Hours later, everything they had was burnt to nothing. 

Their house was gone and with it came their sister. No one dared say anything, but Bucky knew they all blamed him. Perhaps not Sabrina - she came, too - but he knew. He was the one who lit the stupid candle. 

They couldn’t afford anything or anywhere else. Aunt Christine had an old property she wanted to rid herself of. So, they moved to some fuck ass town full of dead end nobodies and dirt roads that had been here since the dawn of this country. Left to be another wastoid nobody and suffering from tremendous guilt that nobody wanted to discuss. Bucky's dad was a drunk. And their mom ate away her stress to the point where the doctor had told her she would eventually die because of her diet. Her own weight would prove to be fatal the moment fat stops her heart from beating. It was… horrifying, to say the least, and yet she changed nothing to prevent an undignified death. It had gotten to the point where she'd lost her job, resulting in her wasting away in their own mildewed living room, barely able to stand. Everyone knew that at the rate she was going, they would all be one step closer to being orphans. Maybe that's what she wanted. They'd lost so much already. At that point… everyone knew they were all fucked. 

Their father became their only source of income, but spent his meager earnings on alcohol instead. Bucky, the eldest, stopped going to school since they got here to work every now and then. Most of his money going to buying weed, food, or the debt his sister and his own mistake left them. Other than that, he had nothing to his name and wouldn't anytime soon. 

That wasn't to say he didn't have friends, no, he'd take his dad’s cherry red Pontiac Tempest up the road and to the cliff where he knew some seniors and juniors hung out. He'd befriended the captain of the football team - a blonde, handsome Steve Rogers. And a few others, of course, but he only really went for him. He got fucking plastered last night just drinking with the dude. 

His night ended with Steve's mouth on his cock, a drunken escapade that wasn't unusual between the two. Which… 

Brings him back to question why the hell he was awake in the first place. He was tired, should be knocked out, and instead he was up and silently griping about the headache that would have been gone had he woken up to an empty house at noon. And then it dawns on him that, just outside his room, was a bedlam of crying, screaming, and frantic footsteps flying up the stairs. 

Part of him knew what was going on right then and there. Initially, it had been nothing but a mere gut feeling, but it became more and more apparent that  _ it _ was finally happening. The inevitable. 

From where he sat, he could hear his muffled sisters whimpering for their mother. The older of the bunch was busily attempting to get ahold of paramedics, but even then his sister knew that it was all over.

All common sense and sense of responsibility left him. He knew that he shouldn't, but he stood up, packed his tattered grey backpack, and left through the back door with no destination in mind. 

It takes a month before the cops find the brunette and return him after his last two sisters had them search for their eldest brother, for fear that he too had gone. 

And, since the ragged, angry kid was only sixteen years of age, he had to be put to school.

Since then, the older teen and his surviving siblings had to contend with his mercurial father's unpredictable and volatile mood swings. Either berating his offspring with a barrage of insults that in his wake, left them all feeling inadequate and incompetent, or simply staring off and nursing a bottle of jack through which he found consolation. Nothing could possibly extenuate his father's constant inebriation and absence. 

Except, perhaps, not being home. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Come on, man, you can't just be out here. What’re you gonna do?” His only valued friend looked to Bucky with concern, his own blue orbs sparkling with the waters of pellucid oceans. Between them wafted the scent of alcohol and burning wood that crackled intermittently. Occasionally, a small spark of embers comes away from the source and falls slowly to the ground, fading away amongst reddening leaves. Dreadful silence washed over the two as they sat on surprisingly soft foliage. Steve's forehead creased slightly at the sight of his friend’s swollen eyes and reddened features. Being a year older than him (and taller, too), Steve couldn't help but be a little protective over the younger teen. 

His brows only furrowed further as Bucky turned away, sighing. He dodges the question altogether.

“What's gonna happen to me?” Asked the teary eyed teen. He had been gone for two fucking days days, unsure whether or not he’ll return. As time goes on, the more stressed he became. What face he'd bear walking in there after abandoning his sisters he didn't know. He didn't know what brave front he'd put on when he comes home one family member short for the umpteenth time. If he could take anymore loss, he didn't know. What was waiting for him back home? He could run and leave for the next state. He wouldn't have to deal with any repercussions for being gone because he  _ is  _ gone. Seeing his sisters cry… Fuck.

If he ran… if he came home… everywhere felt like a dead end.  

Steve sighed and held his friend close, perhaps a little too close and a little too personal under the notion that they were _ just _ friends. Obviously, they were just shy of being more than that. And maybe he did want a little more than this…  But that didn't matter, no, Steve decided as he easily flushed those thoughts away. Bucky needed him. Bucky needed all the care and tenderness he could get. He knew that much even though why he was even out here was still a mystery. 

“I don't know. But, I'm here…” reassured the older teen. “We’ll figure it out. Now come on, it's getting late. Gettin’ cold.”

With ease, Steve slipped his arms behind Bucky's knees and lifted him to seek shelter in the brunette's retro car. Already inside were pillows and blankets he'd use at times he just didn't want to come home. It was a normal occurrence. No one missed him or asked for him, but the difference was this time around their mother had died and he was usually back by morning. Still, though, he couldn't help but think that his disappearance would go unnoticed and that he wouldn't be missed. 

Steve curled up to the brunette, holding him so close. It felt unfamiliar to Bucky, but it was pleasant nonetheless. He found himself drifting off with smooth, cool leather beneath him and the gentle heartbeat thumping against Steve's chest beating into Bucky's ear. 

He'd wake up to a soft mattress in a room not his own. Steve's.

 

* * *

 

Bucky sighed at the memory as he traipsed through the decades old edifice that he'd been forcefully enrolled in. It had been… a while… since he'd actually been to school. And though he did excel at some point, now he was just far, far behind. In all honesty, he felt as though he were inadequate. A schmuck, below basic, you name it. He could never amount to any of the bastards here. 

“1130.” Read his schedule. 

They all had nice things. He didn't. They were all ahead of him whereas he knew he'd drag behind and fail. There was no way he could catch up to  _ that  _ much work and know what was going on when he had neither a phone nor a computer. He didn't care that much to go to a library. The luxury of time was far fetched being that he had to work. Save up, should he decide he wanted to get the hell out of here in the future. But the question was… who was he going to be in this world? He couldn't live an unhappy life earning small wages like the people he wanted so bad not to be. Whatever sordid twist of fate he's handed as the outcome of his life he didn't want. He's given up long before he's gotten a chance to get there. So… yeah, why try? When he could sit back and enjoy sweet attrition. Maybe he'll get to watch more of his loved ones die off and not have enough money to bury them. One of these days, he'll release his last pathetic intake of air, and with it comes his soul. Remnants of him would be thrown straight into a ditch - insignificant just like the rest of them. 

So, what's to stop him now from simply taking his own life to give himself some mercy so as to avoid returning home? To avoid, really, the inevitable and perennial decay that marred his life.

On a dirty, grimy white cinder block wall sat a thick plastic placard bearing the digits that indicated that this room was his class. He avoided it entirely, simply passing it by. 

What was gonna happen to him? The question reverberates against his skull, echoing and bouncing off the walls until he felt sick. He wanted to be away, that's all. 

He was inches away from touching the handle of the exit when a door suddenly burst open and a particular blonde pops out of one of the many doorways adorning the old, vacant hall. 

“Oh, shit. Hey man. What're you doing?” Came an all too familiar voice that the brunette wasn't sure if he was relieved to hear or not. 

“Imma ditch.” Bucky drawled out, feigning a good fuck all attitude. The truth wasn’t too far from that, really. But the  _ why  _ part was a little more salient than what he was doing. He turned a little to eye Steve - decked out in a full bright red Kappa ensemble that inwardly made Bucky seethe. Why couldn't he have nice things? Why couldn't he enjoy life as a turgid, pompous asshole with a vacuous, bratty partner equally dolled up by his side, whose only personality trait was the fact that he had a nice, shiny new car? It didn't seem like everything. And it wasn't. Avarice wasn’t his thing, certainly. But the simple notion that people like that could afford such luxuries or had parents that provided for them… well,  _ that  _ was everything. Steve was one of them. But his existence was just slightly more profound and less wasteful. 

Steve stepped out fully to follow the brunette. “On your first day…?”

Steve was a goodie two shoes. He fucked around, but he gave a damn. That's what set them apart. Steve was a somebody. And perhaps that's why shame rose and bloomed within him, and he proceeds to answer with a quick, “Yeah, why not?” a lackadaisical response he seemed to swallow and hope he had never said. 

It's only because of him that Bucky doesn't skip out on school completely. And then, Steve takes care of tutoring the kid, who surprisingly wasn't too far behind. He catches up easy and whether or not this was because of Steve's influence or his intelligence, neither of them really cared to know. Must have been the latter because soon, Bucky was all caught up. He didn’t need him anymore and yet they continued to see each other. Bottom line is - the two spend a  _ lot  _ of time together. It isn't a surprise to either of them when they wind up in bed together. 

Bucky loved it. Daresay, loved him. He wasn't sure yet. He hadn't decided, and he wasn't sure if he actually felt a damn thing. Like sure he was significantly happier with the dude around, sure he loved being taken care of, and he'll be sad once he's gone, but… 

It wasn't enough to will him to stay.

The young brunette eventually grew tired of pulling up to that sumptuous, three story home and always being greeted by a sweet, nurturing Sarah Rogers, watching as the family interacted in ways Bucky's own dysfunctional one could never. The Rogers residence eventually became like his own, hardly ever returning to the Buchanan household, and the family within it treated him as though he were family, too. He spends Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and even his birthday with them. Which, it was worth noting that he hoped would never come. His birthday meant being a year closer to being responsible for himself. One step closer to a future he wasn't sure if he wanted or not. Still, he enjoyed playing play pretend with the Rogers. 

So, again, Bucky was in bed with Steve, smoking a joint the blonde gave him money to buy, relatively sated as warm, soft skin tickled his own. He was in a nice room on a nice bed, with calls covered with posters instead of mold, and shelves stocked full of CDs and books. Atop them were pictures depicting a happy life. Then, a stack of Polaroids taken with friends. On his body was a thick, new duvet. If he were at home, he'd have nothing but a tattered old cloth, mere seconds from disintegration due to years of use. 

He felt sick. This wasn't his reality - these were all just things he could never have. He didn't mean to seem so rapacious, so jealous, but he couldn't help feel sorry for himself. The brunette simply harbored a proclivity for envy, but he had a right to it, all things considered. His time here clouded and polluted his heart with an unquenchable, unscrupulous envy that he sooner grew tired of too. 

And although he found Steve admirable, he grew tired of his time with him, too. Happiness just didn't come to him. It didn't last. And although he could continuously live vicariously through the blonde, he was growing rather unsatisfied. 

Apparently, the inquisitive blonde took notice, and he frowned with concern. 

“Buck…” he started. 

The man he hoped he could call his lover had abruptly stood up and walked into his closet for a change of clothing. Steve didn't know much about the younger teen, but he figured he wasn't the most jovial of people. He's easily caught on to the fact that Bucky didn't necessarily enjoy having to come home. The where and the why were things he didn't know and didn't bother prying into. Maybe he should have for the sake of closing a gap between them. Steve wanted something more. Something more personal. He wanted to take care of the brunette, to love him… But Bucky wouldn't let him. 

It was  _ supposed  _ to be all he wanted. To be nurtured, sheltered… to be here. But it wasn't. 

“You good?” The honest answer was ‘no’ - they both knew that. But as always, Bucky answered with a dismissive, “Yeah.”

Steve's walk in closet probably just as large as Bucky's whole bathroom. It was full of nice, lavish things with brands Bucky could only ogle with jealousy. There were simple things, of course, like Adidas & Guess, but then he had Balenciaga, Gucci, Louis Vuitton. In the corner was a display case of Rolex watches that glistened a little, right next to a shiny black safe left slightly ajar.

Numerous unscrupulous thoughts rang throughout the brunette's thoughts, and he sighed, snatching a simple Hollister camo sweats and hoodie set, quickly coming out before his wandering hand took anything from the safe. He had Steve's trust so much so that he'd practically become family. It would be so, so wrong of him to take advantage of his trust… 

Anyway, his outfit was composed of a black shirt and full camo. The Hollister label ran along the sides of his arms and legs and the interior was soft, plush, tickling his skin ever so slightly. It was cozy enough to be used as pajamas. 

“Alright…” Sighed Steve. 

It was a month later that Bucky decided that he was completely bereft of any remaining love and happiness. Devoid of all morals, one night he just up and left. Abandoning Steve's warmth and his intimate cradle, Bucky slowly crept into the blonde’s closet, grabbed an envelope of money and then some clothes, and quickly absconded with five grand in his possession, nice clothes, and a new identity. 

In a mere hour, the pastoral town became a past he didn't care to look back to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How're you liking it so far? Comments are highly appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Five grand could only get him so far. 

Months down the line, Bucky Barnes had spent his spring coked out, and whoring himself out in New York’s eccentric gay scene, often hanging around an older sharp featured twink with a sense of regality to him that Bucky adored. His name was Loki, he said, and although Bucky didn't exactly buy that moniker, he insisted that that was his true identity. And who was he to question his inamorato while during his highs, the brunette was incredibly enamored to him? Loki made life a little easier for the runaway. He'd been provided with a false identity, a job, and even a lavish suite to stay in. While he earned and saved money through working in restaurants, Loki had all of his expenses covered. All he really needed was sex and perhaps the occasional cuddle and Bucky was practically seated in the lap of luxury. 

That wasn't to say he didn't fuck around, no. He had friends from work who show him the ropes. There were three of them; Corey, Joey, and Shawn. The odd bunch consisted of a blonde druggie and his short, gender bending goth boyfriend that resembled a porcelain doll from the 1800s. Shawn was large, intimidating, and slightly psychotic. After work, they’d often coalesce to smoke in the parking lot. And their clique often broke into apartments which, surprisingly, was much easier than the brunette anticipated. Life in New York was hard, cramped, with most people working well into the night to barely pay off their high priced rent. It was very taxing to say the least, the quality of life was never the best. Due to how cramped it was, most buildings were high rise and stocked full of claustrophobic, tiny apartments to make way for the constantly growing population. Space was scarce. So, most buildings had fire escapes running around the sides with no room to spare inside. Many ladders led to open or unlocked windows if they were lucky.

Sometimes they scored, sometimes they didn't. But the thrill of it all was really what Bucky came for. Financial gain was only an extra incentive, despite how Bucky's acquisitiveness transcends all else. 

Until… 

They broke into the wrong house. 

At first, everything seemed perfectly fine. The house they hit was perfectly wide open. Not a single soul was visible, and so they proceeded to ransack the place. Nothing seemed of value - all there was was a single ragged davenport, a foldable plastic table, and walls ripe with decay. It was a scene all too familiar to the brunette - save for the odd crates of papers and documents, military memorabilia, and other important items bearing certain insignia unfamiliar to the naive teens. They were all completely oblivious to who exactly owned the place. And if they did know, they would have left. It was Corey who shuffled about, digging through the files. Joey merely shrugged and skipped off to the kitchen for a quick snack. Whoever the Hell lived here didn't have jack shit, Bucky surmised, and he walked about slowly. Heavy boots thumped against the creek wooden floor despite his conscious efforts to muffle them and carry his feet. Each movement causing an odd rise of panic within all of them that had their hearts jumping into their throats. Anyone could come in any second now. But, no one was coming, the apartment was empty, and they were doing just fine.  

And by empty, he means  _ empty.  _

Bucky grumbled a, “Swear there ain't nuthin’ here.” 

Still, Corey continued to look. It had been a while since they last scored and Corey was low on funds. He needed this. That rampant thought was the only thing on his mind. No fear of getting caught. Fuck that, he needed money for dope. He wouldn't get paid until the end of the fucking month. A week. In a whole fucking week. 

“Come on, man. It's not worth it.” Shawn sighed, his hand in his jacket that only succeeded in making his figure seem that much more corpulent. Joey returned moments later, eyeing the men who towered over his tiny frame while he silently ate at a piece of key lime pie. Corey continued to shuffle about, pissed off more than anything. A little more annoyed that Joey just  _ had  _ to make it more obvious they were here by taking their food, too. 

“ _ Corey.”  _ Hissed Shawn. He was getting twitchy and anxious. Whoever lived here could be back at any given moment. Yet they were wasting time. The longer they were here, the higher their chance was of getting caught. Nothing could possible extenuate the offence of burglaring some bitch ass apartment. The blonde teen knocked over a stack of papers, angrily and hastily standing to his whole height. 

Shawn immediately sauntered over, practically stomping as he haughtily marched to shove Corey’s ass into the ground. He hit the wall with a loud thud. The drywood breaks away upon impact before Corey crumpled to the ground, thinking he'd actually stay there. 

“What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you?!” Hissed Shawn again, this time in a hushed whisper. And though the man was larger, Corey couldn't refuse engaging in a show of bravado. He practically soared as he rose up and landed a neat right hook directly into the underside of Shawn’s chin. Too damn ornery to call it even, Shawn runs and rams hid shoulder straight into Corey’s gut. 

From where they stood, Bucky and Joey could distinctly make out a dark, dusty box that was easily a safe. As the two pummeled one another, the two long haired teens turned to eye each other. Big blue orbs twinkled. 

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it  _ had  _ to be something of value. Joey motioned for him to go for it. Stepping over the two, Bucky pulled the rest of the drywall apart and, surprisingly, found the safe unlocked. For someone smart enough to hide something like this, they… didn't exactly seem smart, no. Nevertheless, excitement ripped through the brunette's body, rising from his chest and dropping to his feet until they were numb. 

This had to be big. 

He opened it right away, dreaming of all sorts of cash, jewelry, and whatnot. It felt like forever until his hand reached the handle and popped it open. The two boys ended their scuffle to stand and watch…

Only for Bucky to open the door and reveal a red, leather journal. That was it. 

“Wow.” Corey huffed. He's the first to just fucking leave with an eye roll. 

Well, shit. They literally went through all that. Fuck if he didn't leave here with  _ something.  _

Pissed to have their efforts wasted, Bucky snatched the leatherbound journal and shoved it into his backpack. He looked around, scouring the flat for whatever else he could snag. 

They'd made too much of a ruckus… and it became apparent that someone had indeed noticed their unwelcome presence as soon as the voices of several men came to earshot… which was a little too late. 

Joey, quick on his feet, shot out of the fire escape via the window. 

Before Bucky could even make it out, the door burst open and burly, foreign men came barging in. There were roughly three, with noticeably thick accents. 

Fuck knows, he didn't care long enough to get a good look at them and listen to their furious babbling. 

But for a split second, Bucky as stood frozen and wide eyed, with his legs aching to get going but his body unwilling to move. Those men had long enough to eye him and get a good enough description of him. He knew that. And  _ fuck  _ he had to bail. He paled, and before his mind even registered it, he sends himself flying out the window, jumping down ladders and moving so quickly he's able to catch right up to Joey. 

In their mad scramble to flee, two of those same men clamber down several flights of rusted, previously red ladders. Panic arose from the very pit of his stomach and gets caught in his throat like bile. Essentially choking him. His legs and arms were numb and he felt as though he were watching through glass eyes, but he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the way his heart throbbed wildly in the cavity of his chest. 

Corey and Shawn’s tired squeal loudly before the two blue eyed misfits make it down. Ditching them. It felt like eternity for the pair of miscreants to plant their feet firmly on solid ground. And even longer for them to haphazardly get their asses in the car, start it, and follow suit. The brunette tosses that red journal into the dashboard. 

“Fuck, fuck!!” Joey screamed, as he scrambled to slam his door shut. Bucky floored it before either of them had the chance to properly close their doors and buckle in. “Bucky, they saw us!” pants the raven haired misfit. He clicked his seat belt in whilst frantically looking around. 

“They're gonna fucking call the cops!” he cried. 

Panicked as is, the brunette swerves around several cars and passes a good three red lights for many blocks. Only irritated further at Joey’s commentary while his nerves attempt to simmer down. The process of regaining his composure is immediately impeded. 

“Fuck off, would you?! We're fine!” 

His foot was heavy on the pedals. Speeding off in the street with a trail of angry blaring of car horns. “We're not! We're going to get caught!” He pulled the car onto a ramp leading into a bridge. 

It was the least of their concerns, really, as Bucky soon learns. 

There was a loud bang, and the glass broke so suddenly. With horror, Bucky turned to see his partner in the rear view mirror with a bright red hole in his forehead, dotted by a thin line of crimson liquid. His expression was one of blank shock, forever immortalized as he sat there, unaware of his grizzly fate. 

He didn't even have time to think about it as the sight of those same men chasing their car came onto that same mirror, with one manically steering the wheel and the other aiming right for his head. 

Maybe he should have left that damn book alone. 

Quick, sharp thinking had him turning the wheel in harsh jerks that causes the car to zigzag through the road in an effort to keep himself alive for longer…

He knew he was fucked. 

And, he was. In his rush to flee, the young brunette accidentally veers off the road, crashing straight into the barriers at full speed and over the railing. Time stood still at that moment, and he watched in absolute horror as he himself sustained several injuries. None which he could possibly dwell on and whine about. 

The car tumbled about in a deafening bedlam of glass breaking and metal scraping all sorts of things. As quickly as it began, the car came tumbling over the rail, and as he sat there, he watched as the ground below became closer. First with fear, then acceptance.

He was never happy. 

 

* * *

 

Bucky awoke to the steady beeping of a monitor. Icy blue orbs fluttered open to the sight of bright lights flooding his vision. The air smelled clean. His body felt sore and heavy… and right off the bat, he knew something was terribly wrong. He felt part of himself was missing. 

“Oh, good. You're awake.” Sighed a familiar voice, and Bucky's lethargic eyes moved slowly towards the source. It was Loki, whose glamour and swagger had all been removed in favor of a comfortable hoodie and sweats set. Still fashionable. He sat himself up to come closer to the young brunette. A gentle hand reaching upwards to caress and rake through light brown locks. “How are you feeling, my sweet?”

“He should be doing fine. The serum’s done its work. He's healed.” another voice answered for him. It came from an opulent voice, one full of a particular arrogance and that ego not even Loki donned. It came from none other than Tony Stark himself, the ultimate sugar daddy he'd ever heard of from even Loki himself. 

“He's still missing an arm, isn't he?” Snarled Loki. “If you'd have just allowed me to take him to Asgard - “

Whatever they had to say about this apparently hotly debated issue went right past his head, and the brunette lay there with wide, glistening orbs. He moved to lift his arm, and he felt  _ both  _ of them move, but only one came up… 

**Author's Note:**

> To RP, I use Kik & Tumblr. My tumblr is 5050dead. Discord is 5050dead. Email is freakshowcorpse@gmail.com  
> Ask for kik. Or Messenger. We can use Instagram, too, but I'm not too fond of the way DMs are formatted.
> 
> I'm not a fan of BDSM, I think it's tacky, and I really don't care much for it. I think spankings are lame, tacky, and overrated, so don't try. Miss me with that dom/slave bs. I've got a slight daddy kink, but not ABDL, so no thanks.  
> You won't be catching me saying some cheesy shit like "yEs pLs spANk Me dAdDy!!1!"
> 
> Buuuut other than that I'm perfectly corrupt. I'm cool with age gaps, noncon, dubcon, somnophilia, orgies... I'd expand more about what I'm into, but privately. (NO scat, NO throw up, NO furry shit, NO CP/Loli bs.)
> 
> AND I ALSO DO FLUFF SO HMU pls ty I've got so many plots, I've got all the plots. 
> 
> Looking for a long term partner. I respond very frequently.


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